


Panama

by Leela_of_the_Sevateem



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bottom Aziraphale, Smut, Top Crowley - Freeform, dumb premise, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 15:18:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19832926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leela_of_the_Sevateem/pseuds/Leela_of_the_Sevateem
Summary: What Crowley lacks in persuasion, he makes up for in persistence. He's usually pretty good at getting what he wants, in the end.





	Panama

“No.” insisted the Angel

“Aziraphaaaale-” the Demon encouraged, waggling his eyebrows convincingly.

“NO.” insisted the Angel again, a little less certain than the first time.

The pair walked awkwardly side by side. The one’s hands clasped in front, placing his feet in front of each other as if he had to concentrate just a bit in order to remain on the ground, the other’s hips swayed dizzyingly from side to side, leaving the rest of his spindly legs to sort it out before his feet found the pavement. His hands were shoved into his pockets now, and he was pouting furiously.

“Listen-” He began again, cutting in front of the angel and putting a hand to his chest, which was quickly flung away.

Aziraphale planted both of his feet firmly.

“I have b-!” He began, rather more loudly than he intended.

“I have been listening, darling. Have you?” he continued through clenched teeth, raising his eyebrows. “It won’t happen! It is out of the question!”

“We could feel so together, I mean really... on our side- ” began Crowley, walking backward

“Stop it-” protested Aziraphale, looking everywhere but those slitted yellow eyes.

“Think about it…” continued the demon, cutting him off once more, this time successfully backing the angel into a street lamp

“Crowley-” protested the Angel, his head snapped from right to left, eyes darting about, searching for onlookers, or an exit, until finally, helplessly, he is trapped in the gaze of the serpent. 

The edge of the Demon’s mouth curled up and in one swift movement, he caught both of the Angel’s wrists, pinning one to the street lamp and the other to the small of his back. 

“Crowley!” gasped the Angel, feeling blood and love and light rush to his cheeks as his gaze fluttered to the Demon’s subtle smile, and watching as it deepened. 

“Think about it, Angel,” Crowley purred into Aziraphale’s neck, shifting his weight so that his slender hips ground into Aziraphale’s, eliciting a gasp of ever-weakening protest. “You and me. Me and you. The world stretched out in front of me…” he continued, hot breath leaving goose flesh in its wake until he felt the Angel’s glory straining beneath him.

Somewhere else, black wings snapped through the air and folded around the two, cloaking them in shadow. Now even if someone were to pass by, their eyes would slide off of the feathers like so many raindrops. 

In the dim light, he felt Aziraphale relax.

“Oh, did I mention before that I’m good?” Crowley responded to an unasked question, releasing the Angel’s lower arm to begin unfastening his trousers. Rather than push him away, however, the Angel’s recently free hand grabbed the Demon’s shoulder and steadied himself as fingers grazed impossibly softly across his twitching cock. “Oh, Angel, I am so, very, good at it.” he hissed, swirling his thumb around a droplet of precum, using it to press a harder stroke down the shaft. The Angel buried his golden head into the demon’s coat to muffle his blasphemous moans, as a shiver of delight tickled his spine. “All you have to do is hold on tight-“

At this, his fingers wrapped around the Angel’s cock and tightened. The Angel’s knees buckled and he slumped helplessly, clutching black lapels with one hand, and hanging limply from his other, still pinned above his head.

“I’ll ease you into it,” he persuaded, milking the Angel at an agonizingly slow and steady pace. Then leaning in close his ear, his voice dropped down into his chest, at once a breath and a hiss and a whisper: “We can go slow at first. You set the pace... the speed.”

He quickened his tempo.

“You’ve never felt anything like it, Angel. You’ve never felt your heart leap into your throat as your body squeezes around mine and you won’t even realize you’re screaming with ecstasy-”

Aziraphale’s hips were bucking into his hand, desperate for the rhythm Crowley knew he needed. 

“Crowley-“ gasped the Angel desperately, “please-“ he begged, using all of his willpower to hold still. The less he squirmed, the quicker the Demon’s pace grew. “Please” he struggled to get out “I’m close, oh love, I’m so close, I- can’t- Ah!” 

Crowley’s teeth sunk into the Angel’s neck as he began to stroke the urgent rhythm he knew would send his Angel over the edge, nipping at his ear and whispering sweet nothings as he did so. And Crowley was rewarded by watching as his lover’s breath came in ragged gasps. Aziraphale’s back arched and his hips thrust erratically into Crowley’s hand. No noise escaped from the Angel’s lips as he spilled himself, body shuddering over and over again, against and into and because of Crowley’s sinful, delicious hand. 

They stood for a while. Or, rather, the other one held the first up until he could set his feet back on the ground and straighten out his clothes, struggling to miracle away the evidence and think thoughts again. 

Elsewhere, black wings beat the air and stretched luxuriously outward before folding back into the Demon. The Angel re-organized his hair, his bow tie, his vest, his trousers, and anything else he could remember he had before taking a steadying breath and running, no. Foot placing? Walking! He nodded self-reassuringly as he began to walk very normally along the path they had been taking. Crowley was leaning against the street lamp with an insolent smirk slapped across his face.

“So that’s a yes then?” He called after his Angel.

“For the millionth time-“ Aziraphale wailed, “you are NOT getting a MOTORCYCLE!!!”

Crowley pushed his lower lip out in disappointment. 

“Same time next week?” He called hopefully. 

The Angel waved a hand in furious dismissal as he continued storming away. 

“Same time next week.” He repeated to himself, feeling warmth swell in his chest and allowing himself to watch the angel as he left before sauntering off in a different direction.


End file.
